


Consistent

by kurofu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But mostly fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Immortal Harry, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Possessive Harry, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 05:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurofu/pseuds/kurofu
Summary: Harry Potter has lived for a very long time.Through Dark Ages and Golden ones, he's witnessed them all.But the things that have remained constant, the things that have followed him since the beginning of time, were always only two.His strange powers and the strange man from his dreams.





	Consistent

**Author's Note:**

> I speak none of these languages.  
> Well, I do English. ...Though that's questionable at best.
> 
> Beta'd by qualamity

Harry is old, very old.

Young in face, but old in age and soul. He has lived for many days. Many months, many years, decades, centuries, millenniums. A very long time.

He has seen many things throughout his life, the good and the bad. But he always remembers his beginnings.

: : : : : :

Ever since he could think, he knew he was different from his _achai_ (siblings).

He was the 31st _ben_ (son) to be born to _Av_ (Father) and _Eym_ (Mother). He was given the name Katri'el, 'Lord's Crown', for his halo of black curls and the unprecedented jewels of green stones for his eyes.

But that was not what made him different.

Since his birth, Katri'el knows that he has three parents: his _Av_ , his _Eym_ , and another mother. He does not know his other mother's face, but he knows her voice. For she speaks to him every night. Whispers of lullabies, whispers of stories, whispers of promises, she speaks.

Of revenge, of power, of a duty to fulfill.

Katri'el knew his mission: to infiltrate his _Av_ 's family and pass down his line. To disrupt _Av_ and _Eym_ 's happiness, for it was Mother's revenge. 

_Av_ had earned Mother's ire long before his conception or even the creation of _Eym_. So Mother hatched a plan for _Av_ 's slight. She illusioned herself as _Eym_ and coupled with _Av_. Afterwards, ensuring that Katri'el was within her womb, she breathed him into _Eym_ 's, and _Eym_ carried him for seven moons before birthing him. 

Katri'el knew he was being used, but he was Mother's _ben_ ; he listened to Mother. Because she promised him happiness in the future through the form of a two-faced man from his dreams. Hence once he was of age, he coupled with one of his _achot_ (sister), just like his achai before them. Together, they birthed many. And when his children coupled with those of _Av_ 's, his mission was a success. 

Forever, _Av_ ’s lineage is tainted.

: : : : : :

Harry sits down in a plush chair in his spacious, yet cozy living room. He looks out of the lightless room to the open window. Watching the falling snow outside twirl in moonlight, coating an already thick layer of white. Stretching out his hand to let a flake drift to him, he shivers when the freezing frost of winter made contact with his skin.

He waves his hand, and the window shut, effectively cutting off the snow and cold. However it is still not warm enough, so once again he waves his hand. The fireplace beside him bursts to life and warmth and light fills the room.

Harry stares at the pale orange and yellow flames dancing upon brown logs, creating long, tall flickering shadows everywhere. He watches live glowing embers jump to escape the heat below it. As always, Harry is mesmerized at the power of Magic. And recalls when he first discovered it.

: : : : : .

Katri'el had no knowledge of what his seed's infiltration would do. He suspected it was youth and long life—like he had, as he lived past his own wife—but his offsprings still died. Though at an age far older than the other lines. It was not until _Av_ 's death did he realize what it was.

A wild bear came brawling through the forest of tall trees. Enraged by the sharp stones piercing its thick fur, it attacked their hunting group. Its massive claws easily sliced through trunk and flesh as people fled. It tore grass and earth, tilling the land.

_Av_ , the oldest, wisest and strongest of them all, was the one leading the hunting group. Yet even he was struck by the beast's paws. He fell.

And with him, order. 

All movements ceased, startled at _Av_ 's screams as the bear pounced on his fallen form. It mauled. It teared. And the dust beneath _Av_ turned crimson scarlet, sinking into the earth beneath, feeding the grass around.

Loud, distinct snaps and crunches pierced the stunned-silent clearing, mixing with _Av_ 's shrill pained cries. Slowly, so slowly, the cries dimmed and passed. Only then was the hunting group's stupor broken by their own outraged roars. 

The large, murderous beast licked its chaps and stood on its hind legs again, sniffing, ears flickering, searching for a new meal. 

One of Katri'el's older _ach_ said to use fire. For all beasts were afraid of it. Mad scrambling for sticks and flints were immediate. Katri'el tried to help, but he was too distracted by Mother's delighted, vindictive crowing ringing through his head.

Fire was not created fast enough, and the beast was heading towards one of his great-grandson. His young scion, only of 15 years, held out his arm, palm outstretched, as if to stop the beast's path. He cried out in fear, in unwanted resignation—and suddenly hot flames raged out from the palm. Igniting all the greenery surrounding them, burning everything to ashes.

Katri'el stood there, amazed, as he witnessed both the bear and _Av_ 's corpse turned to dust, the sentient column of flames so powerful. Katri'el has seen something similar before. 

Through the dreams of a man wielding a large serpent fire.

: : : : : .

A long howl outside brings Harry's gaze away from the flames. His eyes flicker to the sky, the round moon confirming his suspicion.

"Tangy," Harry whispers, and a small house-elf appears beside him with a soft pop. The elf does not speak, waiting upon her master's order with silence. She knows better than to speak on nights like these. "Make sure that all doors and windows are locked tonight."

She nods, and prepares to leave when she asks, "Is Master Harry bes be wanting tea?"

Harry pauses in his turning, "I would like that, yes. Thank you, Tangy." The elf bowed and popped away as quiet as she came. And Harry turns to stare fully out the windows once more.

His cousins are out to play tonight.

: : : : . .

The marketplace was loud and filled with chatter as he walked by stalls. He weaved deftly between people and _sahir_ (Sorcerers). Katri'el smiled as he looked upon his descendants, unique in the ways of _Sihr_ (Sorcery).

Yes, he was proud of how advanced they became, leading the rest of the other lines instead of following. His descendants were more superior, intellectually and physically. They created vast empires, libraries of research, and powerful, undefeated armies.

He smiled once more when he came upon a 'magic' jar. He picked it up and raised it up to the Sun. Admiring the patterns as light hit both the clear walls and colored transparent beads trapped within. A bewitching creation achieved by his _sahir_. 

His smile followed him everywhere, traveling and looking at wares that interested him. And Katri’el noticed that the owl that always followed him disappeared when he came upon a foreign book stall.

Curious, Katri'el picked up a book on myths. In it spoke of the beginnings of mankind, and his brows rose. As he continued reading, he chuckled at the speculations of their origin. That was until he read about the first wife of the first man.

A woman named Lilith, born the same way as _Av_. From dust and clay. Incompatible and intolerable due to arguments of equality, and the two split, finding partners of their own. _Av_ with _Eym_ ; Lilith with Samael. With those pairings, two beings were born: humans and creature-like humans.

An image of a white snake-man flashed through Katri'el's mind.

Disgruntled, Katri'el placed the book down, but when he was about to retrieve his hand, Warm fingers grasped his outstretched wrist

Katri'el snapped his head up, about to demand he be unhanded when he noticed something peculiar. The being that held his wrist was no human at all. Its eyes held molten, burning flames and its hair shifted in and out of sight and dimensions.

" _Shaqyuk_ (Brother), you must be wary," it warned, "Be wary of the humans, for they are resourceful and easily scared."

"I am not your _Shaqyuk_ , why do you refer to me as such?"

"Oh, but you are, _Shaqyuk_. We come from the same mother after all."

: : : : . .

Harry's fingers clench on the porcelain tea cup as he remembers the Jinn's words. His lips clenched and torn between sharp, stiff teeth. Iron fills his mouth. He should have listened to it. He should have known. Harry forces himself to unwind his tight fingers and take a sip of tea. Uncaring of the sting.

It still angers and pains him to this day. Harry grits his teeth, yes, he should have listened. 

: : : . . .

Red.

Red. Red. That was all he could see.

All he could see was red, a hideous copper shade painting every available surface. Flooding the dirt and stones below. No birds flew or sang in the smoke filled gray-blue sky, scorning his failure.

Iron and burning flesh and decay filled the air. He gagged on the intrusive, prevailing smells. His vision blurred because of the stench and unspeakable sorrow.

A youth hiding beneath stone buildings to hide from earth-shattering quakes. Surrounded by rubble and corpses and fellow refugees.

He could not take it anymore, his seventh city in three months. He slid down the scarlet stained wall, knees weak, and heaved. He gave up, he had no strength left. 

He brought thick, red viscous coated hands to his face and sobbed, streaking his features like paint. He did not care that his robes were soaking up the red all around him. He did not care that he looked pathetic. He did not care if he lost his masculinity. He did not care, for there was no one here to judge him.

Because they were all dead.

Stabbed, butchered, slit, beheaded, eviscerated, sawn, slashed, burned, chewed, skewered.

No-one was spared. The children—the infants, the toddlers—youths, and even the elderly. No gender was discriminated, no species differentiated, all was killed.

He could not feel the talons ripping into his shoulders, tugging him, nor could he hear the screeches over his screams. Because his sight was only on the various flags waving at him, a mockery of salutations. Through his tears he vowed vengeance. And vengeance he will have. _Av_ and _Eym_ be damned.

: : : . . .

For 300 years. 300 years, his people were killed. His _children_ were killed. Hunted like game, with search parties and hounds and all. Because they were different because they had _Magic_.

His billions of proud descendants across the globe culled to mere thousands.

Harry sucks in a deep breath to calm himself. It would not do to create more work for Tangy to do. He put down the teacup in favor of grabbing a treacle tart. Besides, he did get his vengeance. 

By infecting a little thing here or another thing there. And he stood back and watched disease and havoc spread. Ah, when they began to blame and kill each other... He thinks that his murdered children were content and appeased. Besides, Lilith was so happy.

Harry hums to himself as he savors his tart.

: : . . . .

Hadrian—for his name was Hadrian now— strolled through streets. Not just any streets, but the havens of wizarding kind.

He smiled when he heard children laughing and running around. He heard their parents call for them to come back, to not go too far. He dipped his hat to passing witches and wizards. Waved to the little ones brave enough to say hello. 

He hummed a tiny tune as he turned off a street, an owl barking his tune above him. Hadrian planned on patrolling all the safe havens his descendants built. Especially if he wanted to visit all the schools that he secretly helped and oversaw.

Schools! For Magic! Who would have thought?

Now Magic was no longer demonized since communities for Magic-kind started to grow. His descendants no longer had to hide their gifts from humans. They could prosper.

And they will prosper. Hadrian vowed to protect his children properly. He shed off his old name in order to forget that shameful moment of history. Only keeping a link in his new name to remind him of his past. And a scar. To always show him that he failed once.

Hadrian discretely rubbed the sowilo scar on his forehead. 

Away from depressing thoughts! He had teachers to interview. Hopefully they would be as passionate in teaching as the man in his dreams was.

: : . . . .

Harry lifts his head when he heard hissing.

 _“Hello, Nagini,”_ Harry hisses in serpent-tongue, _“How are you this evening?”_

 _‘Well and fine. Why did you not call me over when you have such warmth beside you?”_ The large snake hisses back as she heads for Harry's chair. 

_“I was reminiscing in the past, my dear.”_ Nagini only huffs in response as she slithers her way up his lap. Tapping her snout to the crown of his head in reprimand before she rests it on his shoulder. Harry places his hand on her scales as she moves, distracted by her iridescent, gleaming scales in firelight. 

_“Are you thinking about Him?”_

_“Him? Why are you not saying his name? It’s not like it’s forbidden to do so.”_

_“His name is too hard to say! It takes too many syllables! And I did not want to waste my strength in doing so!”_ Harry chuckles and Nagini rears her head back, offended, _“Look! You made me waste my energy! I’m getting tired, you--”_

Harry pets and rubs the offended snake, placating the great serpent.

: . . . . .

England. Miles away from home, but a destination worth his trip.

Hogwarts. Home to the greatest of his children. The most powerful of his descendants was said to have been taught here. 

And so was the man from his dreams. Well, boy right now. He's not yet a man.

Maybe he came too early, but he does not care. He shall build a life for himself here. Waiting for his promised one to grow.

He already chose a surname to go with his new name. 

Potter. It has a nice ring to it, Harry Potter. Besides, he'll even sell his own pottery! With techniques he created and learned from his long past. Yes, he will even rent a place nearby his promised one.

Harry sighs, propping his face on his fists. Staring out the cafe window at the young child squatting across the street. He watched as the boy picked up a small snake and play with it. Did the child know Parseltongue, Harry wondered, one of the rare talents that only a few of his descendants had. Which were becoming rarer and rarer to find. Honestly, why do the pureblooded of his children believe that coupling among themselves would be okay? It’s way past that age now. 

He picked up a tart and bit into it, without actually tasting the filling. Harry was too preoccupied by the boy in front of him. He could definitely see how defined the child would grow, such a heartbreaker he would be. But too bad for anyone who pursues his promised one, he's already taken. Hah! Take that mortals! Lil—oh he's looking this way!

Harry quickly held up his cup of coffee and took a sip. Eugh, too bitter. Whoever decided that coffee was better than tea, anyway? Mumbling to himself, Harry added spoonful after spoonful of sugar. Dutifully avoiding the stare from across the street.

Well, he tried. He snuck a peek here and there, blushing as he did so.

Lilith only laughed at his predicament. Pleased that her child would finally be rewarded for all his hard work.

: . . . . .

The muffled sound of the floo could be heard, and Harry smiles. He made no move to get up as the heavy coils of the sleeping snake weighs him down. It is a bit late, but he could make due.

The door to the living room opens slowly. "Harry? You're still awake?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because it's nearing eleven, that's why." Harry lifts his head, resting it on the plush back of the chair. He takes a moment to look at his husband, his conquest, his reward.

The sharp cheekbones, the perfect aristocratic face, made soft by the warm glow from the fireplace. The normally dark blue eyes, a dark brown with hints of orange red mixed within. His near-black hair parted and swept back, too stiff and perfect. And his observation is cut short when the face leans in for a kiss.

Once, twice, and another.

The last one much deeper and longer than the first two. They parted only for breath, and Tom rested his forehead against Harry's. "Why?" Tom murmurs against his lips.

"Don't you know what date it is?" Harry counters, just as soft. At Tom's confused look, Harry just sighs and leans away, rolling his eyes as he did so. "Come on, help me get Nagini off of me. Then I'll show you, you workaholic."

Once Nagini is settled, Harry pulls Tom down to whisper in his ear.

"It's your birthday tonight."

. . . . . .

The bell on his store door chimed and shuffling could be heard, a customer had arrived. 

“Coming!” Harry called from the back rooms.

When he rounded the corner, Harry hastily stepped back and ran to a nearby mirror. He looked at his reflection, grimacing at the sight. He had dried clay on his face and his normally black hair was gray with dust. He quickly raked one hand through his hair and another on his face, trying in vain to clean himself up. Harry could hear a foot starting to tap, so he gave up on his appearance and walked out, praying to Lilith that he looked “acceptable” to some degree.

“W-welcome!” Harry internally cursed himself for stuttering, “How may I help you?” He asked, giving his promised one a shy, but genuine smile.

In return, his promised one gave him a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Harry inwardly swooned, staring at the perfectly shaped lips as they spoke. “I would like to purchase a vase.” 

“What kind?” He asked distractedly.

“For a bouquet of flowers.” And _that_ snapped Harry from his staring.

Flowers? _Flowers?!_ From _who?!_

At his silence, _his_ promised one laid a bouquet of _love_ on his countertop. Red tulips, white stock, white lilacs, purple lilacs, and purple roses. 

Harry’s smile cracked. Somebody that is _not him_ is courting his promised one, but he will still give him one of his best, most prized pottery. Harry tried to shake the stiffness out of himself as he walked, hands shaking with muted anger as he chose a vase.

“Here, that’ll be 10 galleons; this piece is one of my best,” He said, smile now strained. He went through the motions of payment unseeingly, mind miles away, plotting. Which mortal _dared_ to court what was _his_? He will find them, torture them _slowly_ with no hopes of mercy, he will—

His promised one left his flowers on his countertop.

Harry grabbed the vase, and ran out of his store, flowers bouncing as he went. “Sir! Sir!” Harry cried out as he saw the back of his promised one, “You forgot your flowers!”

His promised one turned around, catching Harry when he tripped. Harry blushed, realizing how close he was, he hoped it looked like physical exertion rather than proximity. “You… forgot your flowers,” He repeated, breathless. The chest before him began to move and the next thing he heard was soft laughter.

Harry looked up confused. “Oh, those flowers weren’t meant for me; they were for _you_.”

“Huh?” Harry said eloquently.

“My name is Tom, Tom Riddle. Would you give me the opportunity to date you?” His pro— _Tom_ asked, a smile making his blue eyes brighter.

And when Harry’s brain finally came around, all he could say was “Oh”, with an even greater blush than before. Somewhere, Harry thought he heard wedding bells and an owl coo.

. . . . . .

Harry looks down upon the sleeping form of his husband. 

Hair-mussed and slack-jawed. So different from his Ministry persona, a cold and impenetrable mask. Harry brushes away a stray lock of hair obstructing his view. The arms on his waist tightening a bit. No-one would ever believe that the fearsome aspiring Dark Lord would cuddle, Harry snorts at the thought. That's right, only he would know of Lord Voldemort's compassion and love. 

He will make sure of it.

Harry yawns, he settles beside his husband. Face to face, nose to nose, heart to heart, and he caresses sharp cheekbones before dropping his hand. Harry closed his eyes and began to drift, he has something important to do tomorrow.

He still needs to ask Lilith on a way for his promised one to be immortal.

**Author's Note:**

> How was it?


End file.
